Birds In The Sky
by Beregond5
Summary: G1. Post Season 4. Sequel to Taming The Beast. The war is over, and the Twins are claiming their old lives back on Cybertron. But there's still something missing in Sunstreaker's life. Slash.
1. Prologue

"Bro?"

Sunstreaker didn't say anything. He simply remained perfectly still and kept his optics shut, hoping that Sideswipe would take the hint and leave him be.

No such luck. Sideswipe started poking him on the shoulder. "Sunstreaker? You awake?"

"Not if I can help it," Sunstreaker declared in a murmur, his optics still closed. "Now go away."

"Sorry, can't do that," Sideswipe said, his tone irritatingly cheerful. "You did promise me after all."

Sunstreaker frowned and half-opened one of his optics to glare at his twin. "Promise you what?"

Sideswipe's mirth ebbed, and the red mech cocked his head. "You really don't remember, do you?"

Feeling alert once more, Sunstreaker sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He searched his memory databanks, and he eventually found what he had been looking for.

"Oh, that's right," he said quietly, realisation catching up with him. "It's today, isn't it?" Indeed, he had told his brother that he would stay in the store just this once, so that Sideswipe could take care of some other sort of… business.

"Yup," Sideswipe said with a nod. He regarded his brother intently, a thoughtful expression settled on his features. "If you don't want to go, it's fine."

"Nah. I said I would, didn't I?" Sunstreaker replied. He got up from his berth and walked to his window so he could look out at the tall, burnished buildings of Iacon, which stretched as far as his optics could see. He even smiled a bit when he noticed the dozens of mechs that walked down the streets with a small colourful band on their forearm, an indication of the celebration that would follow later on.

"Everyone seems excited," he commented.

"Can you blame them? Our home is alive again, Bro," Sideswipe said, now standing at his brother's side. "Can you believe that it's already been a vorn that we've got peace?"

Sunstreaker shook his head absent-mindedly, barely registering Sideswipe's question. Yes, it had been a vorn since the Decepticons were finally defeated and Spike regenerated Vector Sigma to restore Cybertron to its former glory. A vorn during which neither Sunstreaker nor Sideswipe had to think about duty or war, but slowly reclaimed the lives they had had to give up so long ago. Sideswipe returned to his former job as a merchant, while Sunstreaker opened his art studio again on the floor above his brother's store, so that he could start drawing again. And that was precisely what the yellow mech did: take up art projects one after the other and work constantly in the small, bright room without noticing the passing of time.

It was his only solace ever since he returned to Iacon.

"Sunny?"

Sunstreaker faced his brother, flinching as though he had just been woken up from a dream. "What?"

The red mech sighed and shook his head. "You were out of it… again."

"Sorry," Sunstreaker said, wincing inwardly. That had been happening too often, especially as of late. Sunstreaker let his thoughts run away with him, and then Sideswipe had to snap him out of it, a look of concern quite visible in his optics. To his credit, Sideswipe never asked what was it that troubled Sunstreaker, even though he clearly suspected something. In fact, he probably suspected more than he let on, which could explain why he never mentioned _him_ in front of Sunstreaker_. _Sideswipe must have figured it would be a thorny subject.

"You know…" he said, cutting off Sunstreaker's train of thought, "…You could meet us when the festivities begin. Nightrider won't mind."

"No way. I'm not gonna spoil your date," Sunstreaker replied at once. He playfully nudged Sideswipe with his elbow, a wink accompanying his words. "You just get out and have some fun with your lady-friend."

"But what about you?" Sideswipe asked, not playing along this time. "Ever since we got back, you're either here or in your workshop!"

"Art studio," the yellow mech corrected under his breath and shrugged. "And it's not that I can't find something to occupy myself."

Sideswipe sighed. "I was afraid you were gonna say that." Still, he patted Sunstreaker on the shoulder. "Suit yourself. Just don't stay cooped up inside, okay? Not today of all days."

"I won't," Sunstreaker promised, but a part of him knew that that was a promise he wouldn't be able to keep.

If Sideswipe himself was aware of such a thing, he didn't show it. He simply nodded and looked at the time reading on the computer screen. A gasp of surprise escaped his lips, something that made Sunstreaker arch an optic ridge and check the time also.

"Whoops," he noted, "I guess we're both running late, aren't we?"

Sideswipe didn't answer. He rushed outside the room with a curse and something the yellow mech interpreted as: "I'm dead! She's gonna kill me!", grabbed a small box that would serve as a gift for the femme due to the occasion; then hurried back to tug his brother to a hug.

"Later, Bro!" he said. "Don't scare any customers while you're at the store!"

"If you don't want them scared, hurry up and find an assistant – a cute one preferably," Sunstreaker pointed out with a tease.

"All in good time!" Sideswipe answered. And with that, he headed for the exit, leaving a very amused Sunstreaker behind.

When the door hissed closed, however, Sunstreaker's grin vanished into thin air. Not because he wasn't happy for Sideswipe, far from that. Nightrider was a very attractive and charming femme, whose spontaneous and easy-going personality matched Sideswipe's to a tee. It was only natural that his twin felt so drawn to her and wished to spend as much time with her as possible.

But… it also reminded Sunstreaker of what _he _didn't have. And, as time passed, the yellow mech felt a void that treacherously gnawed at his spark, numbing his insides. Nothing seemed to matter to him anymore, and he certainly didn't care about celebrating the anniversary of the end of the war. As far as the yellow mech was concerned, it had just been a whole vorn since he last saw a particular silver form; the one that Sunstreaker still tried to catch a glimpse of at every turn and every moment, because of a now meaningless promise.

Sighing ruefully, he decided that he _should _go to Sideswipe's store and keep an optic on things there. After waxing himself (he still had to keep up appearances, after all), he exited and transformed to his Cybertronian vehicle mode.

* * *

Sunstreaker had to admit that he had missed moving about without the use of wheels. Though he loved his Lamborghini Countach mode, the yellow mech had gotten scratched and dented so often during his stay on Earth that it wasn't even funny anymore. And he wasn't even _including_ the battles against the Decepticons.

Besides, there was no denying that his Cybertronian vehicle mode was ten times more gorgeous than his Earthen one. His curves, his aerodynamic shape, his velocity, not to mention his stunning chassis, were enough to have any passing-by femmes – and a few mechs – staring at him with a mixed expression of admiration, jealousy and desire.

Yup, Sunstreaker still had it. No question about it. Except the very mech that Sunstreaker _wanted_ to feast his optics on the beauty of the artist's alternate mode wasn't in Iacon.

In fact, he wasn't on Cybertron at all.

He never realised when he arrived at the store. True, it wasn't far from his and Sideswipe's home, but Sunstreaker was surprised nonetheless. He transformed back to his robot mode and walked to the sealed entrance of a grey building.

"Sunstreaker, enter code: five seven three point two one zero."

The door made a slight clanking sound as it was activated, then opened with a hiss. Sunstreaker stepped inside and sat at the desk with a slight grunt before turning on the computer. The luminescent blue font sprang to life on the screen, showing Sunstreaker all the important news of the day. Since every single one of them had to do with today's celebrations, however, Sunstreaker simply skimmed through them without much thought.

That is, until he caught sight of a holo-vid that talked about Ultra Magnus's visit on Cybertron. That the Earth Commander meant to see Optimus in order to renew the bonds between the two planets wasn't a surprise; all of Iacon was buzzing about it days before. But, when Sunstreaker watched the news-clip with Ultra Magnus stepping out of the space-shuttle, he also saw amid Ultra Magnus's escorts a very familiar silver shape.

Sunstreaker blinked. He stared at the screen incredulously, trying to figure if his optics were simply playing tricks on him or if he really…

"Sunstreaker?"

The yellow mech froze, not daring to believe his audios. He lifted his gaze after what felt like centuries, only to see that the one mech who had been haunting his thoughts and memories in the last vorn was indeed standing on the doorstep.

_Bluestreak…_

TBC…


	2. A Wavering Start

Sunstreaker looked at Bluestreak, not saying a word. The silver mech was different from the last time the artist saw him. For one thing, though his frame was still as broad as always, it was certainly much heavier now. Golden stripes decorated his shoulders, and there was a wide cerulean streak adorning his black chest. His countenance was proud, with doors held high behind his back and a set of optics that locked on to the other mech's unwaveringly. In fact, if it weren't for the small smile that sweetened Bluestreak's features, Sunstreaker would have thought that he was looking at someone who was long gone.

Prowl had indeed left his mark on his protégé.

"Yes, I suppose I've changed," Bluestreak said, cutting off Sunstreaker's train of thought. He took a step farther inside, looking momentarily at his surroundings – very much like the soldier he still was, to Sunstreaker's chagrin – and then faced the artist again. "Are you alone?"

Sunstreaker smirked out of habit. "Not anymore, I'm not," he answered, chuckling at his own joke. Bluestreak's neutral expression, however, sobered him at once and he caught himself unsure of what he was supposed to say.

"I… uh… I just saw you in the holo-vid," he said, pointing at the computer. "I thought it was a live transmission."

Bluestreak shook his head. "No. We arrived three hours… three mega-cycles ago," he corrected.

Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge. "So why aren't you still with Ultra Magnus? Isn't a bodyguard supposed to be with the one they protect at all times?"

The yellow mech was aware that that was a taunt, but he couldn't help it. On the other hand, Bluestreak didn't look all that upset; he probably thought Sunstreaker was only teasing him.

"Ultra Magnus deemed that my services were no longer required on Cybertron," he said simply. "We're among friends."

"I see," Sunstreaker's tone softened in a form of amends. He had promised himself not to get angry about Bluestreak's choices, even though he hadn't approved of them. "And how did you find me?"

Bluestreak's lip components tugged once more into a small smile. "Jazz. He sends his regards, by the way."

Of course. Sunstreaker had forgotten about the former saboteur. Bluestreak was bound to see him first along with Optimus.

"How is he?" he asked curiously.

"His Second-In-Command position keeps him busy 24/7, but he's happy," the silver mech answered with a nod. "And I think I know why. Cybertron has become beautiful."

Sunstreaker couldn't agree more to that. "It's become home again," he said.

A strange expression crossed Bluestreak's features, surprising the artist; but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"Earth has changed a lot too," he said softly. "Did you know Grapple's been building space-bridges?"

Sunstreaker frowned. "Space-bridges to where?"

"Anywhere on Earth," Bluestreak answered, "All you have to do is send the coordinates of the place you want to go to the main computer, and then the space-bridge is activated right before your very optics." He chuckled. "Skyfire said that it was high time he took a vacation."

Sunstreaker snorted though. "I'd like to see him in a couple of months' time, when he's done exploring fungi and gets bored out of his mind."

Bluestreak cocked his head, regarding the yellow mech in a perplexed manner. "I doubt he will get 'bored out of his mind' as you put it. He likes Earth. That's why he stayed there."

"Is that why you stayed too?"

Sunstreaker mentally kicked himself for the slip, but it was already too late; the damage was done. The yellow mech could see it only too clearly in Bluestreak's optics, and Sunstreaker expected him to turn on his heel and leave.

Oddly enough, Bluestreak remained.

"That was one of the reasons," he said simply.

"One of them?" Sunstreaker asked in mild surprise.

Bluestreak's features saddened, becoming almost rueful. "I didn't dare hope peace would last."

"It's been a vorn, Bluestreak."

Sunstreaker tried not to sound too chiding. Even so, Bluestreak lowered his gaze for the first time ever since he came through the door.

"I know."

Sunstreaker winced inwardly. This wasn't how he had pictured their reunion, and he could only blame himself for it.

"Hey…"

Bluestreak lifted his gaze once more, looking at Sunstreaker almost shyly.

"You're here now," the artist pointed out kindly. "That's all that matters now, right?"

Bluestreak shook his head. "No."

Sunstreaker stared at Bluestreak in disbelief. "No?"

"I'm leaving again tomorrow – on the first light of day."

Sunstreaker's spark missed a pulse at those words. "Why?" he exclaimed.

"There's still much to be done on Earth. We've just come for the festivities," Bluestreak answered. He heaved a deep sigh. "It wasn't my decision to make, Sunstreaker."

Sunstreaker was that close to thinking something very unkind about the Earth Commander, but he controlled himself. He knew it wouldn't do any good, after all. So he put his mind to work instead, trying to figure out what he should do, if there was a way that he could fix this somehow; but he couldn't come up with anything. His hands clenched into fists in his frustration, and he was tempted to punch the wall behind him.

"Sunstreaker?"

The yellow mech looked back at the soldier, who was regarding him with uncertainty.

"One day, huh?" he asked.

Bluestreak nodded. "I'm sorry."

Right. There was nothing for it then. If Primus was in the mood for games, Sunstreaker was willing to play along.

"Then how about we make the most out of it?" he asked the silver mech, forcing his lip components to a smile.

Bluestreak blinked in confusion. "What did you have in mind?"

Sunstreaker stood up and approached Bluestreak to grip him gently by the arm. "Showing you the place, for starters," he said, "Would you like that?"

Bluestreak hesitated momentarily. "Won't Sideswipe mind?" he asked.

Sunstreaker grinned, already prodding Bluestreak towards the interior of the store. "You don't see him around here, do you? What he doesn't know, won't hurt him."

"If I had a credit for every time I've heard _that_ argument…" Bluestreak noted wryly, but he let Sunstreaker drag him along. "Where's Sideswipe, anyway?"

"He decided to leave me in charge for today, which is one more reason that I can do anything I want," Sunstreaker said, a very clear, almost comical 'so there' look reflected in his optics.

That answer didn't seem to satisfy Bluestreak. "Why?"

Sunstreaker looked at the soldier in an affronted manner. "Are you saying that my brother doesn't trust me to keep an eye on his store?"

"No, I'm saying that _you _would never agree to such a thing unless he blackmailed you or..." Bluestreak's face lit up when he figured it out, and he regarded the artist with a knowing smile. "What's her name?"

Sunstreaker scratched the back of his helm, embarrassed. Apparently, Bluestreak knew him and Sideswipe only too well.

"Nightrider," he admitted, "Bro wanted to spend some time with her during the celebrations."

Bluestreak nodded almost absentmindedly. His gaze drifted to a piece of iron plating that Sideswipe had put on display – obviously to sell it – and he flicked it. The light clanking sound filled the place for a few brief seconds before Bluestreak spoke again.

"How long?"

Sunstreaker blinked. "What?"

Bluestreak chuckled and faced Sunstreaker again. "How long have they been together?"

"Oh." Sunstreaker searched his memory databanks. "A bit more than seven Earth months."

Bluestreak nodded his understanding. "Have you met her?"

"Yeah," Sunstreaker answered with a shrug. "She's okay, I guess."

"And what does Sideswipe say?" Bluestreak insisted in a teasing lilt.

"Oh, Sideswipe is _ecstatic,_" Sunstreaker said with a light huff. "He keeps saying that she's the 'one', if you know what I mean."

Bluestreak shook his head and his smile broadened. "You never know, Sunstreaker. Maybe she is," he said, "Admit it. You're just happy for your brother."

Sunstreaker feigned a scowl and he kicked an invisible stone in a pouting manner. "Alright, maybe I am… a little."

Bluestreak didn't say anything this time. He just laughed a bit, then looked at another piece of iron plating and ran his fingers over it to trace the smooth surface. It was strange, but Sunstreaker noticed that Bluestreak's optics darkened momentarily in thought. He certainly didn't face the artist when he made his next question.

"What about you, Sunstreaker?"

Sunstreaker preferred to pretend that he didn't understand the question. "What about me?"

Bluestreak didn't get to ask any further, though. At that moment, the door hissed open again, and a large purple mech walked inside. Sunstreaker bit back a groan of frustration and smiled in a friendly manner at the newcomer.

"Hey, Lightyear. What can I do for you?"

The purple mech looked at Sunstreaker, seeming surprised to see the artist. "Hey, Sunstreaker. Isn't your brother here?"

"Not today, no," Sunstreaker answered, "Is there something wrong?"

Lightyear sighed. "I've run out of bolts for that ceiling I've been working on. They were a special type, made of electrum alloy. Do you know which ones I'm talking about?"

Sunstreaker knew he had been pinned. He had no idea whatsoever, and he didn't want to say that in front of one of Sideswipe's best customers! He activated his communication frequencies to contact Sideswipe, even though his brother did say he didn't want to be disturbed.

"How many do you need?"

Sunstreaker froze and stared at Bluestreak incredulously, for it was the soldier who said that. Lightyear regarded Bluestreak warily, not sure what to make of the silver mech.

"Ten bolts," he finally answered.

"Size?" Bluestreak asked again.

"5/14."

Bluestreak nodded his understanding. He walked with the air of someone who knew his way around and picked up a small glass box from where he dug out exactly ten copper-coloured bolts. Lightyear smiled broadly.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver," he said. He took the bolts and placed them in subspace, then handed several credits to Bluestreak. "There's also a little extra something for you. Keep up the good work."

Sunstreaker opened his mouth to say that Bluestreak didn't work at the store, but he didn't have a chance. Lightyear turned on his heel and left, waving briefly goodbye as he walked out the threshold. Sighing in resignation, the artist shook his head and faced Bluestreak.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Lightyear has a nasty habit of assuming too much."

"It's fine," Bluestreak said with a smile. He handed the credits to Sunstreaker. "You'd better keep this for Sideswipe."

"Yeah, thanks." Sunstreaker took the credits and put them in subspace, but there was still something that he didn't understand.

"How did you know which bolts to give him?"

Bluestreak chuckled. "My mother was a blacksmith, remember? She taught me to tell the difference between the various metals and alloys."

"Just by looking at them?" Sunstreaker wondered aloud.

"Yes," Bluestreak said, "Even by sound or touch."

Realisation caught up with Sunstreaker. "Is that why you kept flicking every piece of metal you passed by just now?"

Bluestreak shifted his legs uneasily. "Yeah… call it a habit of sorts."

Sunstreaker frowned a bit. "I don't remember you doing that back at the Ark."

Bluestreak scratched his head, a sheepish expression on his face-plate. Sunstreaker didn't know what to make of that at first, but he quickly caught on.

"You only did it when no one was watching."

Bluestreak nodded. "Being a living chatterbox was bad enough, don't you think?" he said with a shrug.

He was joking, that much was obvious. Even so, Sunstreaker couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. After all, the artist recalled a lot of times that Bluestreak's incessant babbling was just too much for him to handle. He even recalled a lot of times that he wanted to scream at Bluestreak to shut up, regardless of their friendship… or that _other_ emotion that eventually developed.

"You… weren't _that _bad."

"Liar," Bluestreak replied, smiling knowingly. He patted Sunstreaker on the shoulder. "Thank you, all the same."

Sunstreaker tensed the moment the white fingers rested on his plating. The very same fingers, which caressed his temple so tenderly in a time when peace was only a wishful dream, now reached for him again in a touch he had longed for for far too long.

The touch was gone in a flash. Bluestreak stepped back, his look almost apologetic.

"So… shall we continue with the tour?"

Sunstreaker had enough presence of mind to nod. "This way," he said, practically in a daze, and beckoned the soldier to follow him. Ironically, Sunstreaker did all the talking, while Bluestreak merely listened; but the artist couldn't bring himself to care. The soldier's presence was to Sunstreaker what a breath of fresh air was to a human. It invigorated him, waking him up from that state of lethargy Sunstreaker hadn't realised he was in this whole vorn.

_I missed you,_ he thought, watching Bluestreak when the soldier declared he wanted to examine the storage area where Sideswipe kept the spare supplies. The soldier's movements were graceful and without error, yet Sunstreaker noticed the silver doors twitching in an exuberant way that was all Bluestreak. He leant against the doorway, a sigh of contentment flowing out of his lip components.

Unfortunately, Bluestreak's audios worked only too well and picked up that sound. He faced Sunstreaker, a look of curiosity written all over his face-plate.

"Is something wrong?"

Sunstreaker waved his hand in a dismissive manner, not wishing to admit that he was acting like a love-sick robo-pup. "Nothing. Just a little tired, that's all." He pointed at their surroundings, a smile gracing his features. "So what do you think?"

Bluestreak frowned momentarily, probably seeing through Sunstreaker's evasive answer; nevertheless, he nodded in approval. "It looks great. And you guys managed to do all this in a vorn?"

"Yup," Sunstreaker said, quite proudly. "I had some paintings to sell, Sideswipe had the right connections and the processor for business… you can see the results for yourself."

Bluestreak nodded again, looking around. "Still, it mustn't have been easy."

"No, but it was well worth it," Sunstreaker replied. "Bro has even let me use the upper floor as an art studio, so I can keep painting."

Bluestreak smiled. "Doing commissions?"

Sunstreaker shrugged a bit. "An artist has to make a living; he might as well make one by doing what he likes the most."

"So you're happy?"

Sunstreaker thought fast. "It's better than having to fight big Ds."

Bluestreak sighed softly, his smile still there. "I bet. I'm really happy for both of you."

Sunstreaker's spark warmed at that heart-felt declaration, and the yellow mech almost wished Sideswipe was there to hear it. It would have meant a lot to his twin.

It was then that a strange rumbling sound cut off Sunstreaker's train of thought. And, to make things even stranger, the sound was coming from Bluestreak. Bluestreak must have realised it as well, because he winced visibly.

"Sorry. I'm still accustomed to Earth time."

To say Sunstreaker was confused would have been an understatement. After all, what did Earth time have to do with sounds coming from a mech's midse… Oh.

"Time for lunch?" Sunstreaker asked.

The soldier nodded. "But never mind, I can wait," he added hastily.

As if on cue to utter their displeasure, Bluestreak's insides rumbled again. Sunstreaker stared at the soldier, his optic ridge raised in quite the scolding look.

"Right." Deciding that this wouldn't do, he prodded Bluestreak to move forward. "Come on, let's go."

"Where?" Bluestreak asked, seeing that Sunstreaker was guiding him toward the exit.

"To feed you," Sunstreaker declared.

"Sideswipe asked you to look after the store," Bluestreak pointed out.

"Well, Sideswipe didn't know you'd show up in the doorstep and make a Grimlock impersonation with your stomach," Sunstreaker retorted, "You have reprogrammed your transformation sequences to Cybertronian mode, right?"

"I did, but-"

"Then move. I know a good place nearby, and the owners will be happy to see you."

Bluestreak blinked. "Who are they?"

"You'll see," was all that Sunstreaker said in a big grin, and they walked out.

_TBC…_


	3. Reunions

"Well, I'll be – wham! –" the red minibot murmured when he saw the two Autobots that walked into his bar. Sunstreaker, on the other hand, waved at the minibot with a broad grin on his face.

"Heya, Warpath. Talk about surprise, huh?"

"Surprise? I never thought I'd see this day!" Warpath admitted, and he quickly stepped out of the counter to greet Bluestreak. "How've you been, kiddo?"

"Hey, Warpath," Bluestreak said happily and lowered himself so he could give the minibot a proper hug. "Long time, no see."

"You said it," Warpath said. He turned to the direction of a small door farther inside the bar. "Hey, Gears! Sunstreaker's here!"

Bluestreak looked at Sunstreaker incredulously. The artist nodded with a smile, signing to the soldier that he had indeed heard correctly.

"Big deal! He's here every day!" a very familiar, cranky voice sounded from the inner room. "Now let me get on with my work here, I've only got one pair of hands!"

Bluestreak took a step forward. "So how about you come out and see _me _instead?"

There was the sound of something being dropped quite unceremoniously and, moments later, Gears stepped out, a look of disbelief in his optics. His jaw almost dropped when he saw the silver mech.

"Hello, Gears," Bluestreak said, extending his hand.

"Drop the polite act and get over here!" Gears declared, opening his arms to hug Bluestreak.

Bluestreak chuckled at that and he complied. Sunstreaker and Warpath watched the second reunion, almost laughing when the soldier winced subtly at the strength of that mecha-bear hug. Gears, apparently, didn't know his own strength.

"It's good to see you too, Gears," Bluestreak said, finally drawing back. "You look great."

"I look like slag, you mean," Gears pointed out dryly. "You have no idea what I have to go through every day ever since I became partners with this robo-slowpoke here."

"Don't listen to him, Bluestreak! He – wham! – says that all the time," Warpath said, his smiling tone quite audible, and he beckoned the soldier and the artist to sit on two nearby chairs. "So – pow! – what can we get you?"

"Give me my usual, guys," Sunstreaker said.

Bluestreak thought about it for a moment. "I'll have an energon cube and a piece of oil cake."

Gears raised an optic ridge and looked closely at Bluestreak. "Someone is hungry. And you," at that, he pointed a lecturing finger at Sunstreaker, "Did you ever think of changing your menu for once?"

"If I did, you'd only say I should stick to my usual course. I'm just saving you the trouble," Sunstreaker replied smugly.

Gears harrumphed, although there was a good-natured tone in that sound. "Alright, then. One Sunstreaker dish, one energon cube and a piece of oil cake coming up!" he declared, and disappeared through the door again, while the three other mechs watched him go with a fond smile on their lips.

"Well?" Warpath asked all of a sudden, looking at Bluestreak curiously.

Bluestreak cocked his head in mild surprise. "Well what?"

"What news, of course!" the red minibot said. "Last time I saw you, I was on my way to – pow! – Omega Supreme, so that the first batch of Autobots would return to Cybertron." His optics locked momentarily on Bluestreak's yellow insignia, and then on the cerulean streak that adorned the black chest plate. "You look different."

Bluestreak waved his hand dismissively. "Different duties," he said simply.

Warpath nodded his understanding. "You're still Ultra Magnus's bodyguard?"

Bluestreak frowned, something that made Warpath chuckle.

"You – bam! – thought I didn't know? There's hardly anyone from the old gang that – pow! – doesn't know!" At the next moment, however, he sobered and looked at Bluestreak with a serious look in his optics. "You took us all by surprise with that decision."

Sunstreaker shifted in his seat and looked away, hoping that the other two Autobots didn't notice him. The conversation was heading to a bad direction and he didn't want to hear it. It awoke memories that made him too bitter.

* * *

_Sunstreaker was standing in the balcony of his dorm, smiling as he watched another firework pierce the night air and explode in dozens of colours with a deafening sound. He could distinctly hear singing and cheering in the distance, and he was sure Jazz and Blaster were among the crowd, playing their music at full volume. He leaned against the rail, resting his head on his crossed arms._

_The war was over. No matter how many times he repeated that to himself, Sunstreaker still couldn't believe it. Even so, it was true, and he was witnessing everything with his own optics. Primus, it filled his spark with such unprecedented joy that he wanted to sing and dance too._

"_Wouldn't you rather be down at the streets?"_

_Sunstreaker opened his optics and turned around, rewarding Bluestreak with a brilliant smile. The – former – gunner had arrived minutes before, so that he and the Twins could have their own celebration right here in the dorm. Sideswipe volunteered to find some energon cubes, while Sunstreaker and Bluestreak remained behind to wait for him._

"_Nah, I'm good," Sunstreaker answered. "I'd rather celebrate without having my paintjob scratched by overjoyed mechs, thank you very much." _

"_Why am I not surprised?" Bluestreak replied with a smile of his own. _

"_Hey, I'm saving them from much grief. I don't want to kill anybody on this day," Sunstreaker joked. "I'm a nice guy." _

_Bluestreak raised an optic ridge. "You know… there was a time that you'd probably never admit that sort of thing." He smirked smugly. "You're getting softer."_

"_I'm not. I just thought it would be a good change to actually greet someone without said someone running away in terror," the yellow mech answered in a mock tone of dismay._

"_Now you're just exaggerating," Bluestreak said, shaking his head. "I always thought there was some good in you, even when the other guys didn't believe it."_

"_You always saw good in everyone," Sunstreaker retorted._

_It was a playful tone, so Sunstreaker was taken aback when Bluestreak shifted his weight uncomfortably. _

"_No, I didn't," he said. "I never saw any good in Megatron, or the rest of the Decepticons for that matter."_

_Sunstreaker walked up to Bluestreak, looking at him seriously. "But you didn't fight them because you wanted to, Bluestreak. You fought to protect others." He pointed at the brilliant fireworks that lit up the sky. "You fought for this. And we finally have it. I'm not a warrior anymore and you're no longer a gunner. We're just two mechs, ready to claim our old lives back."_

_Bluestreak fidgeted more nervously than before, leaving Sunstreaker at a loss. _

"_What's wrong?"_

"_You'll become an artist again?" Bluestreak asked softly._

"_Well, yeah. It's what I do best," Sunstreaker replied. "Once back on Cybertron, I can take up commissions again and use the money to set up a gallery, or maybe set up an art studio where I can work."_

_Bluestreak nodded absentmindedly. "Sounds nice," he murmured. _

_Sunstreaker frowned. Something was very wrong. He could feel it in his spark. "What about you?" he asked cautiously, "Did you think about what you want to do?"_

"_I… think I'll go by the Ark tomorrow," Bluestreak answered._

_Sunstreaker was quite surprised by that. "Why? The place is practically buried under the volcano."_

_Bluestreak sighed, absentmindedly tracing small circles on the nearby rail with tentative fingers. "Because of a promise I made Prowl a long time ago."_

"_What kind of promise?" Sunstreaker asked, not really understanding._

"_To tell him the war is over," Bluestreak said. "And that I haven't forgotten him." _

_Sunstreaker's bad feeling didn't subside. "But you _are_ coming to Cybertron afterwards, right?" _

_Bluestreak didn't answer. Worse, he averted his gaze. _

"_Bluestreak…" _

"_Ultra Magnus said that if there are any Autobots willing to stay on Earth, they're welcomed to do so," the silver mech said, his voice barely audible. "This planet has taken much damage too, and the humans will need all the help they can get." _

_A terrible suspicion started crawling up Sunstreaker's spinal axis, and a strange mantra started playing in the back of his processor. _

Don't say it.

"_I've accepted and taken up the position of the Earth Commander's bodyguard." _

_Sunstreaker felt like his spark extinguished right there and then. He stared at Bluestreak incredulously, trying to convince himself that he hadn't heard right, he _couldn't _have heard right._

"_You'll remain a soldier?" he asked, disbelief ringing in his every word._

_Bluestreak flinched as though he had just been slapped. He said nothing, but his silence was enough as an answer. _

_Feelings of hurt, anger and betrayal ignited in his spark, making his fluid almost boil; but Sunstreaker subdued them at once. He wasn't going to snap in front of Bluestreak. He wasn't going to give the soldier the satisfaction that he had wounded the yellow Lamborghini worse than any Decepticon ever had. Steeling himself, he turned on his heel and looked stubbornly at the horizon._

"_Fine," he said. He ground out the word, trying to keep his tone indifferent. But it was impossible when he could sense that blasted pair of blue optics looking at him pleadingly, wishing to make him understand._

"_Sunstreaker…"_

"_I get it, Bluestreak," Sunstreaker said, cutting off the silver mech. "You don't want to leave Earth. End of discussion."_

"_Sunstreaker, please…"_

"_Bluestreak!" Sunstreaker quickly controlled himself, clenching his hands into tight fists. "I said I get it. Okay?"_

_The answer was just as hurt._

"_Okay."_

* * *

Sunstreaker sighed inwardly. That was the last time he had talked – _really_ talked – to Bluestreak before departing for Cybertron. On the day he left, he even spotted the silver mech's face among the crowd of Autobots that were on the runway to bid their friends goodbye. But the artist had been so stubborn that he had actually forced his optics away from that sight and prodded Sideswipe into a conversation about all the things that they could do on Cybertron.

Now, however, as he contemplated matters with a clearer mind, he could only berate himself for his reaction. Bluestreak was barely an adult when the Decepticons destroyed his city, and he had lived in war ever since. After fighting for so long, killing enemies and mourning friends, it was only natural that being a soldier became a part of Bluestreak's life – one that the silver mech couldn't discard so easily. Unlike Sunstreaker and the other Autobots, Bluestreak didn't have a previous life that he could reclaim; only painful memories. So Bluestreak did the only thing that made sense to him: he stayed a soldier.

He stayed a soldier, and Sunstreaker disparaged him for it. When Bluestreak needed his support, his understanding, even his patience, Sunstreaker offered none. He simply acted like a spoiled sparkling that was denied a treat. Granted, he felt betrayed. Even so, it was wrong of him to act as though Bluestreak had taken that sort of decision out of spite. The younger mech was too kind and gentle to do that.

_I'm so sorry Bluestreak,_ Sunstreaker thought, and he meant it. It was easy to put the blame on the silver mech for their separation this whole vorn, but not anymore. Sunstreaker could only admit that _he_ was as much at fault, if not more, and all he could do now was keep regretting it.

"Sunstreaker?"

Sunstreaker looked up, surprised to see that Gears was standing behind the counter, and neither Warpath nor Bluestreak were within sight.

"Warpath went to check on an order and Bluestreak went to wash his hands; oil cakes are messy," Gears said, seeing through Sunstreaker's restlessness. A chuckle flowed out of his lips and he shook his head. "You know, I've never seen Bluestreak eat so fast before."

Sunstreaker smiled warmly. "He's still used to Earth-time."

"Ah, that explains it," Gears said thoughtfully. "However, it doesn't explain why _you_ haven't touched yourcube."

Sunstreaker blinked and looked down. His energon cube was indeed in front of him, shimmering under the light.

"Sorry. I forgot myself," he said, and he took a sip.

"I would never have guessed," Gears said in a matter-of-fact tone. "So how long is Bluestreak gonna stay?"

"Just today," Sunstreaker answered. "He's leaving tomorrow morning."

"Pity," the minibot noted with a sigh.

Sunstreaker just waved his hand in a nonchalant manner. "Don't worry. I'm sure Bluestreak will be back next vorn."

"It's not me I'm worried about," Gears said and regarded Sunstreaker closely. "After all these times you've come here to have your lunch, this is the first time that you actually _look_ happy."

Sunstreaker felt his optics widening, but he didn't have the chance to say anything. Bluestreak came back into the room, shaking his hands to rid himself of the excess water. Gears smiled and shifted his attention to the silver mech, as though he hadn't said anything to Sunstreaker at all.

"Better?" Gears asked, his teasing quite audible.

"Much," Bluestreak answered quite cheerily, taking his seat next to Sunstreaker again. "That oil cake was excellent, Gears."

The minibot laughed. "Yes, I know. You've already said so three times."

Bluestreak's optics reflected his realisation, but he grinned at the next moment. "That only shows how good your oil cake was."

"Or how hungry you were," Gears pointed out.

Bluestreak scratched his head embarrassedly. "I guess it was both," he concluded. He paused for a moment, contemplating matters, and then looked at Gears curiously. "Warpath said you guys keep in touch with Bumb… Goldbug and Cliffjumper."

Gears nodded. "Yeah, we are," he replied. "Goldbug is teaching sparklings at the Academy, and those little glitches simply adore him. Cliffjumper is working in a factory not far from here as superintendent."

Bluestreak smiled. "Tell them I said: 'Hi' when you see them again."

A snort flowed out of Gears' lips. "That will be easy; we've all agreed to meet at the war memorial later on."

Sunstreaker winced and tried to stop Gears from saying anything else, but it was too late. Bluestreak sat up in his seat and stared at the minibot.

"What war memorial?"

"You mean you don't know?" Gears asked, quite surprised.

Bluestreak shook his head. Keeping himself discreet, Gears glared in Sunstreaker's direction, a silent question reflected in his optics.

_You didn't tell him?_

Sunstreaker shrugged subtly. _He never asked._

Gears threw another glare at the yellow mech, obviously chiding him, then patted Bluestreak's shoulder.

"Sunstreaker will take you there. Trust me, it will be worthwhile."

Sunstreaker realised with dismay that this was the second time he was cornered, and he didn't like it at all. And, unfortunately, Bluestreak wouldn't help him out of his predicament this time. The soldier was already facing the artist with quite the pleading expression.

"Can we go, Sunstreaker?"

Well, it couldn't be avoided now. "Sure," he answered.

Bluestreak brightened a bit and he hastily took out of subspace some credits to pay for his meal. Sunstreaker, however, was faster and he stopped the gunner.

"It's on me," he said.

Bluestreak stared at the artist incredulously. "You can't be serious!"

"Actually, I am," Sunstreaker retorted. "This is your first time on Cybertron after the war."

"Sunstreaker, no. It wouldn't be fair."

Sunstreaker frowned. "What's fairness got to do-?"

Gears cut the artist off, offering his own solution to the argument. "Today it's on the house, guys. I insist."

Both Sunstreaker and Bluestreak got ready to protest, but Gears wouldn't take 'No' for an answer. Accepting their defeat, the younger mechs put their credits back in subspace, nodding their thanks, and then waved the minibot goodbye before exiting the bar in seemingly companionable silence.

Now it was time to say hello to some other friends.

* * *

Sunstreaker and Bluestreak drove side by side along the street, still not exchanging a word. The silver mech tried to coax the artist into telling him what kind of war memorial Gears had been talking about, but Sunstreaker didn't indulge him. He just said in a fake, playful tone that Bluestreak would have to wait and see.

The truth, however, was much different. Sunstreaker was torn and he didn't know what to do. The War Memorial was a must-see for all Autobots, so that the ones who gave their very lives in the name of peace would never be forgotten. But Sunstreaker wasn't sure if _Bluestreak_ should see it. He didn't want the soldier to be sad, thinking of those he would never see again. Sunstreaker still remembered the talk he had with the younger mech so long ago.

_It was for the best, Bluestreak. We had to give them a hero's funeral._

_They weren't heroes, Sunstreaker. They were our friends. We laughed with them, we cried with them, we fought at their side… only for them to go where we can't follow._

Sunstreaker's spark wrenched violently at that thought. He recalled the anguish reflected on Bluestreak's face as if it was only yesterday, and he never wanted to see it again – especially in those few hours that they could afford to be together.

And yet… who was he to deny Bluestreak's right to greet the mechs who had come to mean so much to him? If Sunstreaker acted selfishly now, Bluestreak would never forgive him, and the artist certainly didn't want _that _either.

Sunstreaker sighed and sped up, finally deciding that there was nothing for it. He would take Bluestreak to the memorial, and he'd be by the silver mech's side if the sight proved too much. It would be the least he could do.

"Is that it?"

Sunstreaker turned his optic sensors forward at Bluestreak's voice. Indeed, he could see just ahead a large building, towering in the middle of a square that bustled with life.

"Yeah, it is," he said, "But the real attraction is inside."

Though Bluestreak said nothing, Sunstreaker could feel the soldier's questioning look locked on him.

"You'll see what I mean," Sunstreaker said, and he transformed to his robot mode. Bluestreak followed his example and eagerly walked up the short flight of stairs leading to the entrance.

"Bluestreak, wait up!" Sunstreaker cried, chasing after the silver mech.

It was of no use. Bluestreak disappeared through the threshold, so Sunstreaker crossed the entrance as well, cursing under his breath. The lights inside were dim, but Sunstreaker adjusted his optics in no time to locate Bluestreak's silhouette in the vast hall unfolded before both Autobots. He saw the younger mech standing perfectly still, surrounded by the lifelike holo-images of Prowl, Ironhide, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Brawn, Windcharger and Huffer. An iridescent light shimmered on them, giving them an almost ethereal aura. Other than that though, it was as if all seven mechs were very much alive, regarding anyone who observed them with a friendly smile reflected in their optics.

Sunstreaker watched Bluestreak finally force his legs to move and approach with utmost reverence each holo-image. The soldier didn't speak, and there was an unreadable expression on the silver features as Bluestreak paid his respects to all the commemorated Autobots, leaving Prowl for last. Sunstreaker clenched his hands into fists, ready to hurry at Bluestreak's side the moment the silver mech would break down to tears.

Nothing of the sort happened. Bluestreak simply traced the engraving at the base of the holo-image, the one that formed Prowl's name. And when Bluestreak looked up at the image in the same way he used to look at the real Prowl, Sunstreaker noticed that Bluestreak was talking. He could clearly see the silver lip components moving, forming words that Sunstreaker couldn't hear because they were spoken too low.

Sunstreaker understood. Bluestreak always believed that some things he wanted to say were meant for Prowl's audios alone. Apparently, the tactician's death didn't change that, and probably nothing ever would. Just like it would never change if it had been him and Sideswipe in Bluestreak and Prowl's place. So Sunstreaker kept his distance, his head bowed as he waited patiently for Bluestreak to finish. He only looked up when Bluestreak walked up to him once more.

"Let's go," was all the silver mech said.

Sunstreaker just complied with a single nod.

TBC...


	4. An Afternoon Stroll

"You thought I'd break down, didn't you?"

Sunstreaker was caught by surprise at the question. Bluestreak had been so quiet after they'd exited the war memorial that the artist wasn't sure whether he should address him or not. So, both ended up walking around Iacon for over a mega-cycle without exchanging a single word, each of them lost to his own thoughts – until the soldier spoke again, that is.

"The possibility crossed my mind." Sunstreaker hated admitting such a thing, of course; but Bluestreak would see right through him if he tried denying anything.

Bluestreak nodded his understanding and said nothing else. The yellow mech couldn't help but frown and regard him close, a single question now in his mind.

"You okay?" he added softly.

Bluestreak managed a small, albeit bright smile. "I'm fine," he said. "It doesn't hurt so much anymore."

_But it still hurts._ Sunstreaker could tell by the way Bluestreak's optics darkened, reflecting the bittersweet emotions currently reigning in the soldier's spark. Still, the yellow mech knew that the last thing the soldier would want is someone to show him pity, so he remained silent.

"Whose idea was it?" Bluestreak asked at that moment.

"The memorial?" Sunstreaker said. "Optimus's. That was actually one of the first projects that he approved as newly-appointed Commander of Cybertron."

"Good thinking."

"Eh, I don't know," Sunstreaker replied, putting his hands behind his head in a nonchalant manner. "Huffer would probably complain that the holo-image looks nothing like him."

Bluestreak's smile changed into a broad grin. "Yeah. And did you notice what was missing from Ratchet's holo-image?"

Sunstreaker snorted. "They were probably afraid that holo-Ratchet would throw the wrench at the visitors." He deepened his voice, cracking it slightly to resemble Ratchet's voice. "If you aren't bleeding to death, get out and quit bothering me!"

"He wasn't that bad!" Bluestreak objected with a chuckle.

"Says you. You didn't have to visit his medbay almost every day," the artist grumbled under his breath.

"You _still _didn't break Ironhide's record, though," Bluestreak pointed out, a guffaw escaping his lips.

"Only because he was older than me!"

_That_, apparently,was too much for Bluestreak, because, in the next moment, he had to brace himself on a wall nearby or he would have ended up rolling on the ground. His whole body shook as he laughed loud and clear, and all Sunstreaker could do was watch the silver mech, a look of mock indignation in his optics and a warm smile in his spark.

It took a few minutes, but Bluestreak finally managed to compose himself. He heaved a sigh, and he turned to Sunstreaker with one of the brightest grins the artist had seen in a long time.

"Primus, I haven't laughed like that ever since we… lost them." His grin vanished at once. His optics widened, and he looked at his hands as though checking himself. "Has it really been that long?" he murmured in disbelief.

It _had _been that long. Sunstreaker still remembered the last time he himself had heard Bluestreak's laughter. It was when Sideswipe and Hot Rod were appointed as partners, since Sunstreaker had to leave for Moonbase I. When Prowl heard that, he looked quite wryly at his datapad and commented in his driest tone possible:

"Matrix help us."

And now that Bluestreak had laughed once more, truly laughed, eight less Autobots would never be able to listen to that sound. It was unfair, to say the least.

A white hand reached for Sunstreaker's and squeezed it gently, cutting Sunstreaker off his musings.

"Thank you."

This time, it was Sunstreaker's turn to blink in confusion. "For what?"

"I hadn't realised how much I needed that laugh till now." With that, Bluestreak turned on his heel and started walking again, his step more brisk and door-panels standing more relaxed behind his back. Sunstreaker, on the other hand, remained as though rooted to the spot, basking on the warm feeling of accomplishment that washed through him_._

He snapped out of his reverie when the soldier looked over his shoulder, realising that Sunstreaker wasn't following him.

"Coming?"

The artist didn't have to be told twice. He hurried at the soldier's side, and they both started crossing a bridge leading to the next block of buildings. They were already halfway through when, all of a sudden, Bluestreak tapped Sunstreaker on the arm. Sunstreaker cocked his head questioningly, but the soldier simply nodded ahead.

Sunstreaker looked at the end of the bridge and saw what caught Bluestreak's attention. A mech and a femme were standing against the rail, not bothering to hide the fact that they were bonded; they hardly took their hands from each other, their optics reflecting the love they shared amid their kisses and nuzzles.

Sunstreaker couldn't help but stare at them for a few moments. There was a time that he would have scoffed at such display that looked so… well, silly was one way of putting it. But now he actually smiled at the sight.

"They look happy," he commented.

Bluestreak nodded. "They're together."

Sunstreaker's spark sank a bit at that, because it reminded him that he wasn't together with Bluestreak; not the way he wanted to. "Yeah…"

He didn't say anything else, he didn't know if he could. Bluestreak, however, simply linked his hands behind his back and kept talking.

"You know, back on Earth… I tend to have a lot of free time on my hands when I'm not required on duty," he said, "So I've been reading a lot."

"Oh?" Sunstreaker said noncommittally.

Bluestreak hummed his affirmation. "Recently, I've even read this story that humans used to have four arms, four legs and a single head made of two faces. Then a god split them all in half, condemning them to spend the rest of their lives searching for the other half to complete them."

"I always knew humans were weird," Sunstreaker replied with a snort.

Bluestreak looked as though the words had stung. "I guess," he said in a soft tone. "But it's kind of a nice thought, too."

_Bluestreak, you ever-hopeless romantic, _Sunstreaker thought, shaking his head mentally. _We're not even humans._

Still, it set Sunstreaker thinking. In all those years, he had taken a lot of lovers, so many in fact that it was hard to keep track of them anymore. Most of the times it was a pretty little femme with bright blue optics that reminded him of precious jewels, or with a desirable body that _almost_ matched his beauty. Other times it was a mech that matched his intellect or his love for the arts, and Sunstreaker wanted to take things one step further to see if said mech was up to that kind of challenge. And, sometimes, he was just driven by the exhilarating sensation of having someone writhing underneath him, whining and begging for his touch as he claimed them, making them feel privileged to share their berth with him.

All those lovers had one thing in common though. Sooner or later, Sunstreaker left them at the realisation that he was unsatisfied and wishing for something more.

"Hey, Sunstreaker?"

"Hmm?" Sunstreaker blinked, snapping himself out of his musings.

"What would you do if you found your other half?"

_Is this a trick question?_ the artist thought wryly, and he was tempted _not _to answer Bluestreak's question. But, since he figured that he had nothing to lose, he decided to play along.

"I don't know. Bond with them, I guess," he answered with a shrug. "You?"

"Yeah, me too… if it was meant to be." The soldier regarded Sunstreaker, a knowing look in his optics. "I don't have to ask who would be your witness to the primary ceremony, right?"

Sunstreaker managed a smile. Of course it would be Sideswipe; it didn't take a great mind to figure that out. "Yours?"

Bluestreak sighed, looking ahead once more. "I would have wanted Prowl, but…" He stopped and shook his head. "Jazz is a good mech too," he continued.

Sunstreaker realised that Bluestreak was trying to reassure himself more than anything else, and he knew that that wouldn't do.

"Yeah, he is," he said with a nod. "And he would have been glad to witness the ceremony. It would be like having Prowl watching it."

Bluestreak looked at Sunstreaker for many long moments, his disbelief visible on his features. "You really think that?"

Sunstreaker heaved a mental sigh. He supposed he should have expected that kind of reaction. He _was _the sociopath of the old gang, and he _never _talked about mushy stuff that sounded like out of a bad soap-opera. But, blast it, he was serious!

"Of course I do," Sunstreaker answered, "This is Jazz we're talking about, remember? He cares about you just as much as Prowl did."

Bluestreak blinked and cocked his head, regarding Sunstreaker for many long moments, until he finally nodded his agreement.

"You're right," he said.

"You bet I am," Sunstreaker declared smugly, "And don't you forget that."

Bluestreak's answer came in the form of a mischievous grin. "And I also bet it hurt saying something so nice, didn't it?"

_Busted again._ Sunstreaker's lips tugged into a tired smile. "You'll never know how much."

Bluestreak made a motion that resembled a human rolling his eyes, obviously a habit he picked up from Earth. "You're incorrigible."

"I try."

If Bluestreak meant to answer that, he never did. He frowned at the next moment, as though he remembered something very important.

"What is it?" Sunstreaker asked, perplexed.

"I, uh…" Bluestreak scratched his head embarrassedly. "What time is it?"

Sunstreaker wasn't all that sure himself, truth be told. "Probably late afternoon. Why?"

Bluestreak winced. "The festivities will start soon. We'd better head towards the Iacon centre."

Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge and stared at the silver mech. "Why?"

"That's where the military dorms are," Bluestreak replied. "If I'm to get ready for the festivities, I have to have a shower, at least."

_Dorms? _The artist shook his head at once. "No way. You're coming with me."

Bluestreak was certainly taken aback. "Where?"

"My place, of course," Sunstreaker answered.

Bluestreak's face of uneasiness was a pain to watch. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea, Sunstreaker…"

"No, it's actually a great idea," Sunstreaker insisted. "I meant to show you the apartment anyway, and you can still have a shower if you want."

"Sunstreaker, I couldn't possibly impose myself any further. You've already done more than enough for me," the silver mech retorted.

_Impose?_ Sunstreaker echoed in his mind, and he was this close to slapping his forehead. Primus help him, but Bluestreak could be so frustrating at times that it almost made the artist scream.

He did nothing of the sort though. He gripped Bluestreak firmly by the shoulders in reassurance instead, looking at him straight in the optic.

"Bluestreak, you're not imposing; you never did," he said with utmost sincerity.

The younger mech opened his mouth to speak, but the artist proved faster.

"And if you don't like my answer, I can give you another," he added with a smirk. "Do you seriously want to go to some stiff, plain, old dorms rather than a cosy, warm, _clean_ room with a view over Iacon?"

The silver mech's look of resolve wavered, and Sunstreaker clearly saw in Bluestreak's optics the mental struggle that took place within the soldier's mind. It aggravated the artist, for to him the answer was simplicity itself. Nevertheless, he also knew that the decision lay within Bluestreak alone, and he had to respect that.

Finally, Bluestreak looked up at Sunstreaker quite meekly, almost like a sparkling wishing to ask their creator a favour.

"Do you have hot water too?"

Sunstreaker could only chuckle heartily at that.

"Plenty of it," he answered, already guiding Bluestreak toward his home.

* * *

In less than half a mega-cycle, they had arrived at the apartment, and Sunstreaker entered the password on the lock. When the door opened with a soft hiss, he stepped slightly back, motioning a hand to the entrance.

"After you," he said to Bluestreak, very much like a butler welcoming a well-known persona of royalty.

Bluestreak shook his head at that; nevertheless he walked in, optics scrutinising the bright, spacious interior.

"Well, what do you think?" Sunstreaker asked, walking up to Bluestreak's side.

"It's beautiful," Bluestreak answered, nodding his head in approval. "Did you decorate it?"

Sunstreaker grinned. "I sure did. I even chose the colours on the walls myself, too," he said.

"Why am I not surprised?" Bluestreak said, regarding the artist teasingly.

"Because there's no mistaking my excellent taste?" Sunstreaker retorted, and he gripped Bluestreak by the arm to guide him further inside. "Come on, let me show you the rest of the place."

Bluestreak followed the artist with a smile, listening patiently as Sunstreaker showed the soldier the sitting room, the energon dispenser, as well as a small study that he and Sideswipe shared. However, there was something else that really caught Bluestreak's attention.

"That's a lot of datapads," the soldier commented, as he looked at the datapad-case against one of the walls. He reached for one, but he stopped midway when he remembered himself. He looked at Sunstreaker for permission and, as soon as Sunstreaker nodded his consent, Bluestreak picked up a datapad and turned it on.

He was quite surprised to see what was in it, and he didn't even bother hiding it from the artist.

"Talk about a trip down memory lane!" he exclaimed, skimming through the scanned comic pages. "I haven't seen these in ages!"

Sunstreaker smirked. "It would be hard to see any of them, considering I've been keeping them here in the last vorn."

"You know what I mean," Bluestreak replied, lightly cuffing Sunstreaker's arm in mock indignation. He looked at another page, a sigh escaping his lips. "Spike used to love these."

Sunstreaker clenched his jaw involuntarily at the mention of another good friend now long gone. "Yeah, he did." He regarded Bluestreak closely. "We all did."

Bluestreak nodded and, for a moment, Sunstreaker wanted to believe that they were back at the Ark; back at a time when he, Sideswipe and Bluestreak were eager to scan the next comic issue the moment Spike bought it, so they could read it too. Sometimes, if they were too impatient, they even made three copies of it so that they could read it at the same time. Then they'd all sit on the couch and read in silence, surprising everyone who considered them – actually, just him and Sideswipe - nothing more than hellions up to some kind of mischief.

The illusion was broken when Bluestreak spoke, for it wasn't the carefree lilt that Sunstreaker expected. It was the mature timbre of the Bluestreak who had seen too much in his life, the one who had aged more than his actual years.

"It makes you wish that those days were never gone, doesn't it?"

Sunstreaker silently agreed. Before even realising what he was doing, his fingers curled around the soldier's, fingertips gently brushing over the white knuckles before prying the datapad away.

"You should have that shower," he said in a never-before-heard soft, almost soothing, tone.

Bluestreak nodded his understanding. "Where's the shower-room?"

Sunstreaker pointed with his thumb at the exit. "First door on the left; can't miss it. There are already some fresh towels there that you can use if you want."

"Okay." And with that, Bluestreak walked out the door and out of sight.

Sunstreaker, however, didn't move for some time. He kept his head bowed, fingers tapping the datapad absentmindedly before he finally turned the thing off and put it back in its place.

He needed a drink. Desperately. And certainly not of any low-grade energon. He headed to the energon dispenser and took out a vial with just enough high-grade to fill a small cube.

It would do. Sunstreaker poured the high-grade into a cube that was already on the counter, and he took a swing. The strong liquid burned his vocaliser, but he hardly noticed it; he had become too lost in thought.

Why was he doing this to himself? Why was he laughing and joking with Bluestreak as though nothing had changed when, in fact, nothing was the same? He was different, Bluestreak was different, the whole blasted _world_ was different, and yet he chose to shut his optics and audios off from that relentless truth.

He knew why. Because then he would have to acknowledge the fact that some other things were changed, as well as the possibility that Bluestreak was regarding him as a mere face from the past, just like Gears and Warpath; someone fond to think of and yet nothing more than a memory. That pained Sunstreaker more than he would ever care to admit. He could handle it if Bluestreak bore a grudge on him or even hatedhim for some reason; at least it would mean that Bluestreak felt_ something_ about him. Now though…

Sunstreaker sighed and stared at his drink. Now, nothing. It had been a whole vorn; Sunstreaker said so himself. He couldn't expect anything nor should he. He would simply live the moment for exactly what it was, a moment, and that would be that.

Growling in dismay at the injustice of it all, he threw the half-empty cube at the trashcan just a little further from him.

"Sunstreaker?"

Sunstreaker looked up, wincing to see that Bluestreak was standing at the doorway, regarding him with optics slightly wide in evident concern; he had obviously caught sight of Sunstreaker's violent display, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

But, if Sunstreaker was good at something, it was playing down matters.

"The energon was stale," he lied smoothly, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. "I... take it you've finished your shower?" Of course, the answer was obvious. The silver mech's chassis shone brilliantly now that it wasn't marred by Primus knew how much dirt that had accumulated there, revealing an undeniable quality in the younger mech's paintjob.

Bluestreak nodded slowly, his optics still locked on Sunstreaker.

"Right," Sunstreaker declared, and he stood up. "Then it's high time we left."

The air in the apartment was too stifling.

_TBC…_


	5. The Festivities

Reaching the Iacon centre was so difficult that Sunstreaker and Bluestreak had no choice but to transform back to their robot modes and continue on foot. Sunstreaker supposed he should have expected it. All the streets leading to the Hall of the Ancients, the most prominent and sacred place on Cybertron, teemed with mechs and femmes who wished to take part in the festivities. The artist easily saw the smiles on everyone's faces, while the sound of laughter filled the air.

It was almost intolerable.

"Sunstreaker?"

Sunstreaker faced the soldier. "Yeah, Bluestreak?"

"You've been awfully quiet ever since we left your apartment."

Sunstreaker checked himself and, unfortunately, he had to admit that Bluestreak was right; they had hardly exchanged a word in the last half mega-cycle or so. The artist's mood had been too sour for that kind of thing.

"I'm sorry, Bluestreak. I just didn't feel like talking."

"Oh." The silver mech's gaze wavered. "Any particular reason?"

Sunstreaker didn't bother with an answer. He only shrugged.

Bluestreak, however, didn't give up. "Because if you're just worried that you'll be surrounded by dozens of mechs about to scratch your paint or anything like that, I can take you to a pretty good spot."

Now that piqued Sunstreaker's curiosity. Bluestreak was barely a day on Cybertron, and yet he could pick ideal places for them to go?

"I know, I know," Bluestreak answered with a smile, seeing through Sunstreaker's look of scepticism in his optics. "But, trust me; you'll love it... if you can keep up."

Before Sunstreaker could ask what the soldier meant by that, Bluestreak sprinted to his right and off the main road. Sunstreaker watched as Bluestreak vanished down one of the less crowded streets and, deciding to indulge his companion, he went after him. He barely paid attention to the buildings and mechs that he passed by, keeping his optics locked on the silver form instead.

He certainly didn't expect Bluestreak to suddenly grab onto an emergency ladder and hoist himself upwards with the agility of a cat-bot. Sunstreaker stopped in his tracks with an audible screech, staring agape at Bluestreak.

"What are you doing?" he exclaimed.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Bluestreak replied with a huge smile on his lips, looking down at Sunstreaker from a comfortable perch on the emergency ladder. "Now hurry up!"

And with that, Bluestreak was off again, powerful motion pistons working without error as he swiftly climbed to the terrace. A smirk formed on Sunstreaker's features, for he realised that Bluestreak had just challenged him.

Well, two could play that game. It was with that thought that Sunstreaker started climbing the emergency ladder as well. He was out of touch, there was no denying that; he hadn't had to go through that kind of physical exertion since his frontliner days. Even so, he still moved swiftly and nimbly, determined not to let Bluestreak beat him to the terrace.

Unfortunately, Bluestreak had the advantage because he was still a soldier. The constant training kept him in top condition, able to reserve his energy and yet still move at top speed; so it wasn't long before he reached the terrace, and he started running across it. Clenching his jaw, Sunstreaker pressed on, running as fast as his legs could carry him, and he noticed to his satisfaction that he was slowly gaining on the silver mech.

Just then, Bluestreak jumped into the air, his silver plating shining brilliantly against the darkening sky. Focused on the chase, Sunstreaker followed him without hesitation and, moments later, both Autobots landed on the opposite terrace with a loud clank. They rolled over and over for what seemed like an eternity, until they finally ended up sprawled on the roof, looking at the first stars of the night.

Sunstreaker remained where he was, cycling air heavily. His limbs ached, his ventilation system worked hard to cool down his circuitry and he was sure that he was sporting a couple of dents on his chassis. But it felt damn good, reminding him of the times he and Sideswipe practised their jet judo on any hapless Seeker they could lay their hands on. His lips tugged into probably one of the silliest grins to ever grace the face of Cybertron.

"You know, Bluestreak…" he said, the thought just occurring to him. "I think Sideswipe and I have been a bad influence on you."

"Yes, you have," Bluestreak's teasing voice sounded close by. "You're feeling better now though, aren't you?"

"Much," Sunstreaker admitted. He pushed himself into a sitting position to look at the silver mech, who was sprawled next to him with a broad smile gracing his lips and breathing just as heavily. "Thanks. I mean it."

"You're welcome," the soldier replied. He got back on his feet with a small groan and stretched his hand to Sunstreaker. "Come on."

Sunstreaker chuckled wryly. "Call me old if you want, but I don't think I'm up for Round Two that soon."

Bluestreak laughed. "No, we've arrived. But you won't be able to see anything if you just sit there."

"See what?" Sunstreaker asked curiously.

"Hey, you surprised me once, let me surprise you back," the soldier pointed out with a wink.

Sunstreaker supposed Bluestreak had a point. Taking the soldier's hand in his own, he got back to his feet and followed Bluestreak to the edge of the terrace.

He was stunned to see the Hall of the Ancients below. It was lit up like a beacon amid all the other lights in the city of Iacon, while a sea of mech and femmes were gathered around the building, laughing and talking as they waited patiently for the festivities to officially begin.

"Whoa…" was the only coherent answer Sunstreaker could muster.

"It was a good surprise then," Bluestreak declared. He boldly sat on the rail, and patted the spot next to him. "Have a seat."

Sunstreaker was intrigued to find the soldier so daring. Nevertheless, he complied and, once he was comfortable, he began to fully enjoy the view. Several minutes passed in silence, but there was a question that kept nagging the back of Sunstreaker's mind. Finally, unable to help himself, he turned to Bluestreak.

"Okay, I give up. How did you know about this?"

Bluestreak's smile turned to a broad grin. "The advantages of being Ultra Magnus' bodyguard. I downloaded in my databanks the map of the whole area in order to pinpoint any potential threats to Ultra Magnus' safety. This is one of the spots that an assassin could pick if he wanted to fire at him."

"But Ultra Magnus relieved you of your duties," Sunstreaker pointed out.

"Yeah," Bluestreak said. "I still had the info though. I figured I could just as well put it to good use."

"So… there _is_ no threat."

Bluestreak shook his head. "I was just following the typical procedure." He lifted his gaze to the sky, a thoughtful expression settling on his features. "And I hope that's all I will ever have to do as a soldier from now on."

Sunstreaker looked once more at the crowd that was unfolded before him and he wholeheartedly hoped for the same thing – Bluestreak deserved that much at least.

It was then that he saw it. Optimus Prime, Elita-1, Ultra Magnus and Jazz stepped out to one of the highest balconies of the Hall of the Ancients, ready to give the necessary speech before the festivities. Sunstreaker patted Bluestreak's shoulder, and both Autobots tuned up their audios to hear what Prime had to say.

"People of Iacon, guests from other cities and distant planets, I bid you welcome. We're gathered here today to celebrate the day that a time of darkness ended, and a new age of prosperity began. It's a day that reminds us of the destruction and sadness we witnessed during the war, but also the joy and hope that came along with peace. It's a day that we honour those who died before they could witness this new Golden Age, and a day that we remember what we must never forget: the value of freedom. Only then can we co-exist in harmony; not only on Cybertron, but also on Earth, Nebulos and everywhere else across the galaxy."

And with that, Prime turned to Jazz, who knew exactly what to say.

"Ladies and Gentlebots… let's get this party started!"

Nobody had to be told twice, of course. There was a wave of clapping and cheering, and the deafening sound of fireworks rang through in the air. The fireworks exploded in vibrant colours of blue, red, gold and green, illuminating the sky, while Sunstreaker looked on in wonder at the patterns that were formed so close to him. It was as though he could touch them if he just stretched out his hand.

He smiled broadly. Bluestreak had indeed picked the best spot for the two of them.

"It's really something, isn't it?" Bluestreak asked, looking at the fireworks as well.

Sunstreaker regarded Bluestreak from the corner of his optic. "Yeah, it is."

With that, he looked up again, unaware that his hand had inched closer to Bluestreak's – almost touching it, but not quite.

* * *

Sunstreaker didn't know how long he and Bluestreak stayed up on the terrace, side by side. But, when Bluestreak suggested they should go down and join in the dancing and merry-making, the artist just couldn't deny his wish. He followed Bluestreak down to the ground via another emergency ladder, then let him guide him towards the crowd very much like an excited sparkling that dragged his creator onward.

Just when Sunstreaker felt as if they were both lost in uncharted territory and surrounded by utter strangers, a familiar voice reached his audios.

"I don't believe it! You guys are here?"

Sunstreaker turned around, just in time to see Goldbug, formerly known as Bumblebee, pushing through the people to get to the two Autobots. Not only that, but Cliffjumper and Mirage were with him, also wishing to greet the artist and the soldier.

The reunion was warm and spark-felt, that was for certain. Bluestreak hugged and patted Goldbug and Cliffjumper on the shoulder, more than glad to see them. And when Mirage asked him about any news from Hound, Bluestreak told him willingly.

"He misses you," he said. "He actually plans on coming to Cybertron at the first chance, so he can see you."

"It's a pity he didn't manage to come now," Goldbug noted ruefully.

"It couldn't be helped," Bluestreak said, "He and Beachcomber have been helping Grapple build the space-bridges, making sure that the terrain and wildlife won't be disrupted by the new structures."

"By the sound of things, I'll get to visit him first after all," Mirage said with a chuckle. "And you can tell him I said that."

"I will… Ambassador," the soldier replied teasingly.

Sunstreaker was dumbfounded. He was aware that Mirage had chosen a career in diplomacy after the war had ended; but that the former Ligier was elected as ambassador was news to him. Cliffjumper and Goldbug seemed just as stunned, for they stared at Mirage incredulously.

Mirage smiled almost shyly. "It appears you and Jazz have been talking," he said to Bluestreak. "I should still emphasize that it's only a temporary position."

"Come on, Mirage; that's good news!" Cliffjumper said. "Where will you be sent first?"

"Nebulos; and then Earth," Mirage said.

"Gears and Warpath have to hear this!" Goldbug said, and he grabbed Mirage by the hand. "Come on, let's go!"

Mirage tried to say something, but it was of no use; Goldbug was already dragging the blue mech away. All that the newly appointed ambassador could do was turn to Bluestreak and Sunstreaker with an apologetic look, and then vanish with the minibot into the crowd.

Cliffjumper shook his head. "Different name, different colour; but he's still good ol' Bumblebee."

"It sure looks like it," Bluestreak said, grinning. "You'd better go after them, Cliffjumper."

"Definitely. This calls for a little celebration of its own, and someone has to get the high-grade!" the red minibot said, rubbing his hands together. "Later, guys!"

The red minibot was gone so fast that Sunstreaker and Bluestreak didn't even get the chance to wave goodbye at him.

"I hope he leaves some high-grade for the others," Sunstreaker noted dryly.

"If he wants to celebrate, let him celebrate," Bluestreak argued in a playful tone. "Besides, he's pointed out something important."

"And that is?" the artist asked.

"We don't have any drinks," Bluestreak replied. "I'm going to get us some, okay?"

"Wait, Bluestreak, there are-"

But Bluestreak had already left, and he didn't hear what Sunstreaker meant to tell him.

"—too many people," the yellow mech completed half-heartedly, aware that he was fighting a lost cause. He would just have to stay put until the soldier came back with the high-grade, which wasn't going to be easy. Bluestreak wasn't a minibot, after all, and he would have to push through a big crowd till he got the cubes.

Heaving a sigh, he kicked an invisible stone and looked around, trying to see if there was anything he could do in the meantime.

"I never expected to see you alone on such an occasion," a male voice said from behind him.

Sunstreaker clenched his hands into fists at once. If that mech intended to hit on him with that kind of unoriginal line, he had another thing coming.

"For your information, I already have company, so I suggest you back-" Sunstreaker's voice died in his vocaliser, and his intimidating scowl vanished when he saw who talked to him.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Sunstreaker," Ultra Magnus said, a small smile on his lips.

Sunstreaker hadn't really expected Ultra Magnus to remember him by name. The artist had never been under one of the Earth Commander's subordinates, and they had exchanged only a few words during the war.

"My apologies, Magnus," he said. "I didn't realise it was you."

"No harm done," Ultra Magnus replied, waving his hand dismissively. He sipped some of his high-grade and looked at Sunstreaker with quite the scrutiny. "So where's your company? If you don't mind my asking, that is."

"He's gone to get us something to drink," Sunstreaker answered truthfully enough. "And I don't see him coming back any time soon," he added in a dry tone, nodding in the direction of the crowd. "Yours?"

"Jazz found Mirage and a few more friends and they're celebrating, and I didn't think it was proper to be in the way of Optimus and Elita; they'd rather spend their time together," Ultra Magnus said, "So I decided to see what familiar faces I should meet."

"And I was one of them?" Sunstreaker asked, raising an optic ridge.

"As a matter of fact, yes," the Earth Commander replied, his smile broadening a bit. "I meant to have a word with you… and congratulate you."

"For what?" Sunstreaker asked, confused.

"I've heard you exhibited some of your pieces in the Iacon Art Gallery," Ultra Magnus said, as though stating the most obvious thing in the world. "You've even got good reviews for them, too."

The artist felt his optics widening, unable to hide the fact that he was surprised. "I didn't think you'd be interested in my work."

The large mech chuckled softly. "Actually, I'm patient enough to hear Bluestreak talking constantly about it."

Sunstreaker's spark missed a pulse at those words. Sunstreaker hadn't expected Bluestreak to be interested in his art either. In fact, he was sure that Bluestreak knew next to nothing about art.

Then again… Sunstreaker didn't know much about Bluestreak's life on Earth, did he? He had stubbornly _refused_ to know from day one, in fact. It was something that filled Sunstreaker with indescribable guilt and, though he didn't welcome Ultra Magnus's presence at first, he now saw in the other mech an opportunity to make some form of amends.

"He must be a very good bodyguard if you've managed to put up with his babbling all this time," he said, trying to keep his tone teasing and nonchalant.

"He is," Ultra Magnus answered seriously. "He's one of the most conscientious, hard-working and responsible mechs I have ever met."

_Like mentor, like protégé,_ Sunstreaker thought wryly. Still, it was nice to know that Bluestreak was doing well.

"But there's still something missing."

Sunstreaker put a stop to his musings with a mental screech. "What do you mean?"

Ultra Magnus shook his head. "He hasn't done anything wrong," he explained. "However, ever since he became my bodyguard, Bluestreak's been leading a very quiet, almost isolated, existence. He barely smiles anymore, and he always seems to be lost in thought. There are even times that, when there's a particularly clear night, he lifts his gaze to the direction of Cybertron with a look of longing in his optics, only to look away again moments later, sighing regretfully."

The artist bit his lower lip, for this wasn't what he wanted to hear at all. He had never imagined Bluestreak being so miserable, and it left him wondering why the soldier still stayed on Earth if that were the case.

"That's what I wondered too, so I confronted him about it," Ultra Magnus said, seeing through Sunstreaker's thoughts. "I even told him that I would gladly accept his resignation, as long as that was what he really wanted; all he had to do was ask."

"And what did he say?" Sunstreaker asked, his voice unusually strained.

Ultra Magnus fixed his optics on the artist. "Word for word?"

"Yeah."

"'I angered him.'"

Sunstreaker caught himself shifting on his weight uncomfortably, for Ultra Magnus' look became hard, almost piercing. In fact, if Sunstreaker didn't know any better, he'd say that Ultra Magnus…

"I _do _know," the Earth Commander said. "As soon as he said those three words, he broke down and told me the whole story."

Sunstreaker clenched his fists. "Then he must have also told you that he chose to stay on Earth."

"And you chose to leave," Ultra Magnus pointed out.

"I'm aware of that!" Sunstreaker exclaimed exasperatedly. "I've been regretting it ever since Bluestreak showed up in my doorstep!"

Ultra Magnus certainly didn't expect that. "He did?" he asked in surprised tone.

Sunstreaker froze as he registered what he had just said. He bit his lower lip and mentally cursed his stupidity, but there was no turning back anymore.

"Yeah. In fact, _he's _my company," he admitted. He snorted, a very wry expression on his features. "Don't worry, he'll be back on time for the return trip to Earth."

The Earth Commander frowned slightly. "Is that what you want?"

"Does it make any difference what I want? He's a soldier and a sickeningly dutiful one at that," Sunstreaker replied, his voice barely hiding the bitterness he felt. "Prowl would sure be proud."

Ultra Magnus sipped some of his energon in thought. "You're right, he would be."

Sunstreaker huffed inwardly. However, Ultra Magnus was far from finished.

"But Prowl would also want Bluestreak to be happy."

Sunstreaker caught himself staring agape at Ultra Magnus, yet the spell didn't last long. A familiar silver form approached them, holding two energon cubes, and he stopped in his tracks at once.

"Ultra Magnus?" Bluestreak said, looking at the Earth Commander almost apprehensively.

Sunstreaker had to admire Ultra Magnus's subtlety. The large mech faced Bluestreak with a friendly smile as though nothing was wrong whatsoever.

"Hello, Bluestreak. I'm glad to see you've made it to the festivities."

It was a strange thing to see a soldier acting as though he was a sparkling and had got caught in the act of doing something wrong. Bluestreak kept fidgeting, and Sunstreaker clearly saw a strange tint of red on the silver faceplate.

"I… wouldn't miss them for the world, Sir."

"Nor should you," Ultra Magnus said. "Especially when you can celebrate with someone you care about."

Bluestreak's face became even redder, but Ultra Magnus didn't seem to notice. He simply faced Sunstreaker.

"Thank you for the company. I want to believe that our conversation has been enlightening."

Sunstreaker didn't even get the chance to answer, for Ultra Magnus turned on his heel and left without looking back. Bluestreak watched him go with a perplexed look in his optics, still holding the high-grade in his hands.

"What was that about?" he finally asked, looking at Sunstreaker curiously.

Sunstreaker shook his head. "It's no big deal. He wanted to congratulate me for my art exhibition."

"Oh." Bluestreak relaxed at once, and he offered one of the cubes to the yellow artist.

It was the perfect opportunity for Sunstreaker to catch the soldier off-guard and step closer, his optics locked on Bluestreak.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Bluestreak's optics widened. "Tell you what?"

"That you kept track of my work," Sunstreaker answered.

Bluestreak cringed. "It never came up?" he said lamely.

Sunstreaker gave the soldier his best 'as if' look, something that clearly embarrassed Bluestreak. He averted his gaze at once.

"I didn't know how you'd react," he replied.

His voice was barely a soft murmur, and his guilt quite audible. Sunstreaker couldn't help but heave a sigh, because he realised that Bluestreak was still afraid in spite of his brave front – afraid of the artist's anger and resentment.

It was time to remedy that, then.

"I'm not angry," he said truthfully, a smile accompanying his words. "It's just that you've never showed any interest in my drawings before, Bluestreak."

The soldier smiled back, albeit weakly. "There's always a first time for everything."

"I guess there is," Sunstreaker replied. And, though he would never say it out loud, it was flattering to know that _he _had something to do with Bluestreak's new favourite pastime.

That, incidentally, also gave him an idea. In the next moment, he gripped Bluestreak by the wrist and started dragging him away. "Come on."

Bluestreak stared dumbly at Sunstreaker. "Where are we going?"

"To _my _special place," was the artist's only answer.

"What about the cubes?" Bluestreak asked incredulously.

Sunstreaker just handed them to a couple of oblivious bystanders and continued on, keeping Bluestreak close behind.


	6. Alone

Sunstreaker watched Bluestreak curiously from the corner of his optic, for the soldier was staring perplexed at the area they were currently walking through. It was obvious he recognized the place, even though it looked different under the dark veil of night.

"Why are we going back to the shop?" Bluestreak finally asked.

Sunstreaker's lips tugged into an enigmatic smile. "We're not."

That, however, confused Bluestreak even further. Sunstreaker chuckled before he could help it and tapped the silver helm in a teasing manner.

"You're a smart mech, Bluestreak. What else is here?"

Bluestreak didn't figure it out at first. But when he did, he looked as though his jaw would drop on the spot.

"You're actually taking me there?"

"Why not?" Sunstreaker asked, "It's the least I can do for someone who appreciates art so much… especially mine," he added with a smirk.

Bluestreak wasn't that easily convinced.

"We were comrades-in-arms for four million years, Sunstreaker. The only one you ever allowed in your art studio was Sideswipe."

"And, as a good friend of mine said not too long ago, there's a first time for everything," the artist pointed out. "We're here."

Sure enough, Sunstreaker could see the building, towering just a few feet away from them. The door on the ground floor was securely shut, yet the lights on the second floor, where his art studio was located, were on.

"Is someone there?" Bluestreak asked, noticing the curiosity.

"No, not really," Sunstreaker answered, "I… uh… tend to forget myself whenever I work, so I set a timer on the lights. They're programmed to turn on at dusk and then turn off when it's near dawn."

Just as Sunstreaker expected, Bluestreak frowned at those words. "You work for so many hours?"

"I have to. My clients don't like waiting for their commissions," Sunstreaker answered with a shrug, but, of course, that was only half-true. Work also kept him distracted, since he didn't want to think of what he had left behind.

That, however, was neither here nor there anymore. Remembering himself, he uttered the access code, and both Autobots headed upstairs.

"I should warn you, Bluestreak. The smell of the paints will take some time getting used to," Sunstreaker said, and he pressed the enter button.

The moment the door slid open, Bluestreak snorted loudly, almost sneezing.

"I'll take your word for it," he said wryly.

Sunstreaker smiled in sympathy. "Just breathe from your mouth for a couple of minutes 'till the smell gets bearable."

Bluestreak complied, and he followed Sunstreaker inside the art studio, his optics drifting every which way as they caught sight of numerous canvases, cans of paint, paintbrushes and airbrushes among the styli and digital tablets. Then there was the messy corner in which Sunstreaker made his sculptures; the stains of clay and shards of metal were visible all over the spot. And, naturally, the place was filled with all kinds of artwork, either in progress and covered so as not to be harmed by the light, or complete and visible to any visitor who would drop in.

"This is different from what I expected," Bluestreak said.

Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge. "In what way?"

"I'm not sure," Bluestreak replied, shrugging a bit. "I just didn't think there would be so much stuff gathered in one room, I guess."

"Heh," the artist said, giving the studio the once over too. "I suppose it could benefit from some tidying up."

"That from someone who can't stand a speck of dust on himself," Bluestreak pointed out in a teasing tone.

"On _himself_ being the keyword here," Sunstreaker retorted with a smirk. "But I didn't bring you here to comment on the state of my art studio."

"Then why did you bring me here?" Bluestreak said.

"To see where I work. I figured it would be something you'd like," Sunstreaker said with a shrug.

"I do," Bluestreak said, smiling. He slowly stepped to the centre of the room, drawn by three complete paintings that were across from him. The first one depicted Iacon by nightfall, and the soldier looked closely at the blue and yellow hues that dominated the picture before carrying on to the next picture: the Iacon docks.

"I like the detail in this one," he commented softly, his optics locked on the outline of the mechs working, as well as the robo-gulls flying under a sky rich in gold and red colours. "It must have taken you a long time to draw this."

"Yeah," Sunstreaker admitted, "It was worth it, though."

"I bet," Bluestreak said, staring at the third painting: a sleeping deer-bot in the centre of a thicket. "It's strange, you know. All three of your pictures are so tranquil that I'm feeling at peace. All I have to do is close my optics and imagine myself there, enjoying the calmness."

That kind of accurate and beautiful in its simplicity critique rang truer to Sunstreaker's audios than any review from the so-called art connoisseurs would ever be.

"I'm glad you think so," he said. "I have some more pictures if you want to check them out."

Bluestreak hesitated in his answer. "Are you sure? I mean, they _are _your clients' paintings…"

"Actually, they're mine, until they come to take them," Sunstreaker corrected, and he extended his hand to the direction of a small couch. "Make yourself at home. I'll bring in the first batch."

Relenting, Bluestreak nodded his acknowledgement and sat down… only to jump back on his feet with a yelp of surprise, startling Sunstreaker in the process, too.

"What-?" Sunstreaker started, but he got his answer when Bluestreak dug out from the couch a very large paintbrush on which, apparently, he had accidentally sat. "Oh. Whoops."

"Right. Whoops," Bluestreak said in a dry tone, although he was doing his best to stifle his laughing fits. He handed the paintbrush to Sunstreaker and he sat again on the couch, more carefully this time. "I take it this is where your models rest after they're done posing for you?"

"More like where _I'm _resting after I'm done drawing. I don't work with models," Sunstreaker replied, omitting the part that he didn't work with models _anymore._ In the next moment, his lips tugged into a broad grin as an idea supposedly formed in his mind. "Are you volunteering?"

It took a great deal of willpower not to laugh out loud when Bluestreak shook his head quite emphatically; even the red tinge of embarrassment that Sunstreaker witnessed at the festivities was back on the silver faceplate in full force.

"No. No way. Not in a thousand years. Not even _after _that. Not even if my life dependedon it!"

"Aw, come on, Bluestreak!" Sunstreaker said in mock disappointment. "You could become famous!"

"No, thank you!"

"I'd pay you really well," the artist insisted sweetly.

"Blast it, Sunstreaker, do you enjoy embarrassing me?" Bluestreak exclaimed, squirming uncomfortably in his seat and his faceplate now redder than Sideswipe's plating.

"Actually, yes." The yellow mech chuckled heartily, and he placed his palms upwards in a gesture of peace. "Relax, Bluestreak. I'm only joking."

"You'd better be," Bluestreak said. "The last time I felt so embarrassed was when I first saw you and-"

His voice died in his vocaliser and he closed his lip components, but it was too late. Sunstreaker had heard enough.

"And… what?"

"Nothing," Bluestreak answered at once, averting his gaze.

Sunstreaker wasn't fooled even for a second.

"Nothing, my aft. What were you going to say?"

"It doesn't matter, okay?"

Sunstreaker was taken aback, to say the least. Sobering, he approached the silver mech and sat next to him. Bluestreak, however, kept wringing his hands in an agitated manner and refused to look at the artist.

"Bluestreak, if it has something to do with me, I think I have the right to hear it," the artist said quietly, "Especially if it's something bad."

"No, it's nothing like that," the soldier answered.

"Then what is it?"

Bluestreak didn't answer for some time. But, just when Sunstreaker was about to give up, the soldier finally spoke.

"It was on the second day after Prowl brought me to Iacon. I had nothing to do and Prowl was on duty, so I decided to wander around the base on my own for a while. I ended up in one of the common rooms and… I saw you, talking to Sideswipe."

Sunstreaker blinked, since he couldn't understand what was so wrong about that. "And?"

"And… Well…" Bluestreak's voice dropped to an inaudible mumble.

"Bluestreak, I didn't catch that," Sunstreaker said, keeping his tone kind and coaxing.

The soldier sighed and spoke up, blushing furiously again. "And… you were the most beautiful thing I had ever set my optics on. I kept staring at you, thinking that it was impossible you could be real."

Those words were to Sunstreaker's ego like a master's hand to a purring house-cat. But still...

"How could that be embarrassing?"

Bluestreak chuckled sheepishly. "I was walking while I had my optics on you… and I crashed into Ironhide."

"Ouch," Sunstreaker said with a wince.

"You said it."

"Was he mad at you?"

"Well, he wasn't exactly pleased," Bluestreak answered, his shyness gradually ebbing away. "He had me scrub the washracks."

Sunstreaker rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner. "You know… I always wondered why they were so clean that day…"

His teasing was rewarded with a cuff to his arm.

"Very funny," Bluestreak said. "How many times did _you _have to scrub them, pray tell?"

"Oh, fine! Rub it in, why don't you?" the artist said, laughing. Even so, as he rubbed the sore spot where Bluestreak hit him, he couldn't help but ponder on the soldier's words, because they made him realise something important.

"Did you really have a crush on me for that long?"

That was enough to sober Bluestreak too. He nodded meekly.

"Heh. I had no idea. You sure knew how to hide it," Sunstreaker said.

"I didn't want you to know," Bluestreak replied, "I… I thought I didn't stand a chance."

Sunstreaker stared at the silver mech incredulously. "Why would you think that?"

"Are you kidding me?" Bluestreak asked in a tired manner. "Why would you settle for someone like me, when you could have anyone you wanted? You would laugh at me if I said anything." He sighed, looking at his hands in thought. "So I accepted the next best thing I could have from you."

Sunstreaker understood. "My friendship."

Bluestreak nodded again. "Then everything changed. Prowl died and I was left behind, mourning him." He lifted his gaze and looked at Sunstreaker, a sad smile on his faceplate. "But I also noticed something. You spent more time with me, supporting me either with a gentle word or a comforting touch. At first, I thought it was just out of pity, and I was furious with you."

"What changed your mind?" Sunstreaker asked, mesmerised at the story.

Bluestreak's smile broadened a bit. "Your optics."

Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge at that. "Was I that obvious?"

"At the time… yes." Bluestreak said, "Although I didn't know what made you feel that way about me. And, to be perfectly honest, I still don't."

"I thought that would have been obvious, too," Sunstreaker replied with a smirk.

Bluestreak frowned at the artist, not seeing the humour. But Sunstreaker was, in fact, quite serious. Since the silver mech had made a question, Sunstreaker intended to answer it.

"You are right. There was a time that I would have probably laughed at you," he said, "And I would have been an idiot, because I would never know what your friendship, your kindness and your gentle heart would eventually mean to me; how they would change me slowly and subtly, making me look at the world through different optics, so I could do nothing else _but _love you." Tentative yellow fingers reached for the silver faceplate, caressing it lightly. "Bluestreak, I stopped contemplating on the why a long time ago. Now I just ask myself 'Why not?'"

Bluestreak stared agape at Sunstreaker for many long moments, clearly at a loss; then drew back, a shy expression on his optics.

"I don't know what to say," he said.

"Now that's a first," Sunstreaker noted in a tease, flicking Bluestreak's arm in a playful manner. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd better get those pictures I was talking about."

With that, Sunstreaker got back on his feet. However, he didn't care for the lavish paintings that were resting against the walls of the room. Instead, he opened a small trunk and took out a sheet of paper on which he had drawn something with just a piece of charcoal. It was a simple sketch that he made when the art studio was still at its baby steps; he nevertheless looked after it reverently, and he always sought it out whenever the burden of loneliness became too much. No one knew about that picture, not even Sideswipe. But, after what Bluestreak had said to him just minutes ago, the artist knew that he hadto show _him_.

It was with that thought that he sat back next to Bluestreak and handed the soldier the sheet of paper.

"What's this?" Bluestreak asked.

"Just look," was all that Sunstreaker said.

Bluestreak complied, and the artist smiled when a small gasp escaped the soldier's lip components. For Bluestreak was currently looking at a sketch of _himself,_ smiling and looking at his viewer through bright optics. His plating had a shiny look, and his doors spread out like wings behind his back, a serene aura enveloping him.

"Is… is that really me?" Bluestreak faltered in disbelief. "Do I look that-?"

"Beautiful?"

Bluestreak nodded before he could help it. Sunstreaker placed an arm across the silver shoulders and leaned close to the younger mech, a whisper flowing out of his lips like a breath of wind.

"You do to my optics."

Bluestreak turned around, agape. "Sunstreaker-?"

Sunstreaker didn't allow Bluestreak to continue, sealing the silver lips with a kiss. It was a mere feather-like touch, truth be told. Even so, Bluestreak froze, staring at the yellow mech incredulously as Sunstreaker savoured the taste he had been aching for for all those years. But then, finally, the soldier relaxed and shut his optics, even parted his lips further to allow Sunstreaker deepen the kiss.

It was a timid, coy action; a sign that this was the first time that the younger mech acted on such feelings, and something that made Sunstreaker's spark pulsate rapidly against his yellow chest-plate. The sound of a moan, an odd mixture of surprise and need, reached his audios, and the artist knew that he had won the silent battle that had been going on from the moment Bluestreak had stepped onto his threshold.

Sunstreaker could never regard Bluestreak as a conquest though. Not when the younger mech left himself so vulnerable, so open, entrusting another with his very being for the first time in his life. No. As Sunstreaker became intoxicated in the rapture that filled his spark, he intended to show Bluestreak that it was a risk worth taking. He lowered himself on the couch, not minding his lover's weight pinning him down, every part of him coming in contact with the silver form he desperately wanted to touch, to feel, to _know _like never before.

Bluestreak drew back, a shaky sigh escaping his lips. "Sunny…"

The uncertain tone betrayed Bluestreak's nervousness. But his optics, locked now on Sunstreaker's, left no doubt about his own growing desire.

"No," Sunstreaker said softly, placing a digit on Bluestreak's lips. "No more words, Bluestreak." He cupped the silver face with both hands and pulled the soldier down for another kiss, one in which he breathed all his love.

Bluestreak didn't say anything else. He simply buried himself in Sunstreaker's embrace and let go.


	7. Epilogue

The room was dark, since the lights had gone out some time ago, but Sunstreaker didn't mind. While he still lay on the couch, lost in thought, he deemed that he wanted to remain like this forever, in the darkness, hiding from the rest of the world. After all, he didn't need the world anymore. He had something in his arms that was more than enough for him.

With that thought, he looked down at the silver form that was huddled close to him as comfortably as possible in the narrow space the couch provided. Sunstreakercouldn't see Bluestreak's face, because the soldier was using his yellow chest plate as a headrest. But he still noticed the doors shaking gently as Bluestreak calmly cycled air, apparently lost in the land of dreams.

The artist couldn't help it. He smiled warmly at the sight, and then reached for a silver door to caress with light fingers.

"You're awake," Bluestreak whispered, his optics flashing as they came online.

Sunstreaker froze, certainly not expecting that. "I thought you were recharging."

"No. Just thinking," the soldier answered. He nuzzled Sunstreaker's chest plate, his doors twitching expectantly. "Don't stop. I like it."

Sunstreaker couldn't deny the younger mech, not when he asked him in a tone that made his spark melt; so he started caressing the doors again, relishing the smooth surface underneath his fingertips. A warm breath on his chest told Sunstreaker that Bluestreak sighed deeply, and the silver arms tightened their grip on the yellow chassis.

"You alright?" Sunstreaker asked quietly.

"Yeah," the soldier answered, "Thank you, by the way."

Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge in an amused manner. "For what?"

Bluestreak lifted his gaze and faced Sunstreaker, a small smile on his lips. "For making it wonderful."

Under other circumstances, Sunstreaker would have grinned and mentally pat himself on the back. Now, however, he just frowned, because he could easily see that that small smile Bluestreak gave him was a wistful one. He cupped Bluestreak's faceplate with his hand, his thumb rubbing the cheek seams tenderly.

"Then why that face?" he asked in a gentle tone.

Bluestreak shut his optics for a moment, leaning to the touch. "Because _I'm_ the real idiot."

Sunstreaker revolted at once. "Bluestreak…!"

"I am," the soldier insisted, effectively silencing any further protests. "When I came to see you, I convinced myself that it would only be for a day, and all I could hope for was that we would at least part as friends. Now that this happened and I got a taste of what it could be… all I can say is that it's almost dawn."

An unnatural lump formed in Sunstreaker's vocaliser. He looked at the nearby window, and he bit back a curse when he saw that Bluestreak was right. Dawn was swiftly approaching, covering everything with its grey light. He faced Bluestreak again, anxiety almost overwhelming him.

"You have to leave _now?_"

Bluestreak nodded ruefully. "I'm expected."

He didn't say anything else. He just turned his back to Sunstreaker and got up from the couch. The cold tendrils of numbness reached for Sunstreaker's spark with unrelenting claws as the artist realised that that was the end. Bluestreak was going out of his life, leaving him breathless and alone all over again, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Or was there? Sunstreaker still recalled Ultra Magnus's words, and they were enough to finally snap him into action.

In a flash, he also got up, and grabbed Bluestreak by the arm. Bluestreak faced him with a dubious look in his optics, but Sunstreaker didn't let go. He had already made the mistake of giving up once, and he didn't plan on repeating it.

"If you're to go to Ultra Magnus, go to file in your resignation."

Bluestreak shook his head. "Sunstreaker, I can't just abandon my duty."

"Yes, you can," Sunstreaker declared, almost fierce in his determination. "The war is over. You don't have to be a soldier anymore. You know that," he said. "Sideswipe will need a trustworthy assistant; you can be that."

The silver mech pulled himself away. "Don't do this," he said, and he turned around.

"Don't do this to yourself!" Sunstreaker said. Both hands clasped Bluestreak's shoulders, stopping him once more. "You've asked me to wait for you and I did, in spite of everything. Now I ask you to stay here with me. Why don't you?"

He knew he was practically begging; he didn't care. Pride wouldn't help him if Bluestreak walked out that door. And as the soldier remained perfectly still, his doors upright behind his back, Sunstreaker waited with bated breath to hear Bluestreak's answer.

"Cybertron isn't my home anymore," the soldier reasoned, but his tone wasn't as resolved as he probably would have liked. Sunstreaker could hear it clearly.

"It can still become one; as long as you want to."

Moments passed, and finally Bluestreak sighed, the tension that had coursed the silver form subsiding. But Sunstreaker still gripped both silver shoulders, doing his best to control his trembling hands.

"I have too many bad memories of this place," the silver mech whispered.

Sunstreaker's spark wrenched so violently at those words that it almost tore the artist apart. But Bluestreak just turned around and poked Sunstreaker on the chest plate in mock threat.

"So you'd better give me some really good ones, you hear?"

Sunstreaker jolted back to life at that. And as warmth surged through him once more, the yellow mech wrapped his arms around Bluestreak and held him close.

"I hear you," he said, smiling broadly.

**The End**

_**A/n: A special thanks goes to all the people who kept track of the story, reading and/or reviewing it. It means a lot to me as it helps me keep writing. :)**_

_**Till next time! **_


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